


Requital

by scarletrebel



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-01-24 13:57:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18572899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletrebel/pseuds/scarletrebel
Summary: Definition of requital.1 : something given in return, compensation, or retaliation.2 : the act or action of requiting : the state of being requitedDrifter needs a hand on the Shore, so he asks the only person he knows with a reputation to be his backup. A favour is asked, terms are set, and Avia hopes that she can bargain for something worth the trouble of going back to a place where the locals think she's dead. And are happier for it.





	1. Habits, pt. I

**Author's Note:**

> buckle in kids, this one is gonna be long. 
> 
> as season of the drifter has gone on, i've started to notice similarities between drifter and my main hunter girl, avia. this fic kind of sprung to mind as a result, and gave me a good excuse to write the trash man and her interacting for a long period of time, whilst examining those similarities and giving my girl some growth. (she can only run away from her past for so long, after all) 
> 
> for the sake of the story, i've mussed up some in-game timings, mainly aunors messages. this technically takes place before the allegiance quest and in the first week of season of the drifter, but avia is receiving messages from aunor during that week instead of the week prior. 
> 
> Rook belongs to my good buddy @mrpinstripesuit who has been a gosh darn cheerleader throughout the creation of this fic and i can't thank them enough

_ACCESS: RESTRICTED_

_DECRYPTION KEY: 73XK5V2PG1$AUN-326_

_REP #: 010-POI-0509_

_AGENT(S): IKO-006_

_SUBJ: Follow up to previous report RE: #0509’S pre-resurrection memories._

_1\. It is unheard of, or at the very least highly unlikely, for a Guardian to remember who they were before their resurrection. However, after speaking with #0509 for some time, it is my belief that she tells the truth. #0509 knows her past as if she had never died._

_No Guardian has any reason to lie about such a thing. Furthermore, in #0509’s case, she was not even aware that Guardians as a whole know next to nothing of who they were before their Ghosts found them, or even that it’s frowned upon to go searching. This is why she sought her Vanguards guidance on the matter in the first place, that, and her openness to being passed onto myself to discuss the matter in more detail gives me confidence that she is being honest._

_2\. At first I believed the retention of #0509’s memories to be due to the swiftness of her resurrection, #0509’s Ghost records show that she was resurrected approximately half an hour after her death. Some theories would suggest that proximity to the Traveler can also affect these memories, and #0509 was found close to the walls in Old Russia._

_As a note: I would only feel comfortable having myself or my fellow Warlocks investigate this phenomena in more depth if #0509 would permit it. But as it stands I do not believe she will, as she seems eager, bitter even that she was not granted that which all Guardians have: to forget her past life upon resurrection._

_3\. I am aware that there are some who wish to ask or even interrogate #0509 on her information regarding the Reef and its illusive Queen. That is simply out of the question. I can personally guarantee to all those who would call #0509 a spy or a traitor that she holds no loyalty to the Reef. And I would remind those who seek to intimidate her: previous reports state that her death was the result of running away from an accusation of treason._

_She is a Guardian now. She will be treated as such, and those who do not respect this will face the jurisdiction of the Vanguard._

* * *

Sunlight filters in softly through the bedroom window, specs of dust flittering about the orange beam that crosses the room, landing gently on the lilac face of a sleeping Awoken. The sheets are tossed, a human sized imprint opposite her is vacant, and eventually, blue eyes flutter open, frowning after the first few seconds of a sorely needed restful sleep ebb away.

She yawns, rubs her face, reaches out to nothing and frowns. In a flurry of particles, a Ghost materialises in front of her, slanted blue shell twitching softly.

“He’s making breakfast,” Levi says, nudging her shoulder. “And he’s very proud of himself so far.”

“I bet.” Avia mutters, stretching onto her back like a cat in the sun. She hears gentle footsteps before Rook comes into the bedroom, leaning against the door frame and smiling at her.

“Mornin’ sugar.”

“Oh, god,” she groans playfully, covering her face with her hands. “This is all far too domestic.”

He laughs, kneeling on the bed and moving her hands to give her a gentle kiss. He settles next to her on his side, placing a hand on her forehead as she turns to face him. “Didn’t I promise a domestic weekend?”

“You told me Eden was going to throw me off the Tower if I didn’t get some rest after _you,_ ” she jabs his chest. “And Grier blabbed that it’s been months since I slept.”

“Sugar,” Rook says, tone despairing even if the goofy split of his lips suggests otherwise. “Just. Say that sentence out loud again, huh? How normal does that sound?”

“I’m not normal.” She answers. A second passes, they both burst out a laugh as Avia plants her face into the mattress, knowing what she’s in for.

“Damn darlin’, you really got me, didn’t you?”

“Shut up.”

“‘Not normal’, she says. _Not normal,_ sweetheart, don’t I know it when you say things like that.”

“Rook,” she whines. His laughter dies down, and Avia allows herself this one moment to reach a hand up to his face and consider her luck. It siphons glee in her chest, thrumming and warm and her throat feels tight in this liminal space, lost in golden brown eyes. She sinks into him, and he pulls her closer by the waist in return.

He kisses her forehead. “I love you, darlin’. Especially when you’re dramatic as all hell.”

She smiles against his chest. “I love you too, cowboy.”

They spend a few more minutes against each other, Avia closing her eyes as Rooks thumb moves in circles on her skin. Eventually she endeavours to wake up, pulling back. She grabs his chin and kisses him, and what was meant to be a soft peck becomes deeper, languid.

Warmth pools in her belly as they pull away, and she asks through a grin; “So. What’s on the menu?”

Rook noses into her neck, slides smoothly onto his knees and pulls her under him in one motion.

“Currently? You.”

“Oh,” she breathes as he kisses down her neck. “And I’m the dramatic one?”

Instead of talking back he kisses her, lilac hands getting lost in long brown tresses.

In the kitchen, Rooks Ghost turns off the stove, the oven, muttering to herself before Levi offers some help. Saffron thanks them, all the while the two lament their Guardians in light tones. They talk, so animatedly so that Levi doesn’t notice the _ping_ of an encrypted message.

Some minutes later, when it pops up on Avias holopad, she’s so enraptured that anything outside of their room doesn’t exist to her.

* * *

They don’t rise until midday.

Avia sits with one leg beneath her at the table, a hand around a coffee mug, the warmth a comfort. She looks out into the City, staring up at the underbelly of the healing Traveler as Rook puts food down in front of her. They eat, they talk, he makes her laugh so hard she nearly chokes on her eggs, and she catches him staring at the ring on her finger multiple times.

On the fifth glance, she takes her own look at the way the afternoon light makes the modest band gleam against the table. She looks up under her eyelashes. “If you keep staring, I think you might scare it.”

Confusion crosses his features, and then he looks up to her cheeky smile and matches it. “That didn’t seem to happen with you, did it?”

“Difference is, I liked it when you stared,” is her light retort. She looks down at the ring, at the inlaid diamond sat gently atop her skin.

“Did it say something to offend you, sugar?” Rook asks with a hint of mirth. Avia doesn’t realise the frown on her face until he says this, and her features soften in response.

“Human traditions,” she shrugs. “Sorry, it still kind of escapes me.”

“S’alright,” he says, then makes a noise and adds; “Suppose I never asked, how _do_ the Awoken go about engaging?”

“Engaging?” She parrots with a smile.

“Yeah, yeah, you know what I mean.” He picks up his own mug as she starts to fiddle with the ring. She thins her lips.

“There’s nothing like this. It’s more intense, I guess. Everyone around you just knows.”

“Just knows?” He asks, taking a sip of his coffee.

“There’s – there’s this belief, that when two Awoken give themselves to each other so completely everyone just kind of… Knows? It’s like a claim.”

“A claim?”

“No, maybe that’s the wrong word.” Avia huffs. She looks down to the city, to tiny bodies from their vantage point walking side by side, hand in hand. “The Awoken don’t really have a term or a ritual for an engagement. Weddings are deemed more important, and they’re more ceremonies in the traditional sense. The widely held belief is that every Awoken has someone that they’re just trying to find, and when you find them it’s that simple. Everyone knows you have that person.”

“Like soulmates?”

“Yeah?” Avia pulls a hand through her hair. “Yeah, actually. Like soulmates.”

“But with that whole ‘Awoken’ thing thrown in? Everyone just knows cause ya’ll are… Magic?”

“Something like that.”

Rook sits back. “Definitely intense, sugar.”

“Yeah. I never really liked that idea, anyway.”

“You? Not liking the idea that you’re not in control of who you fall in love with?” Rook teases, standing to pick up their plates. “That _is_ a surprise.”

“Well, the evidence would suggest that I’m definitely not in control of that,” she teases back, Rook hissing as though wounded. She stands too, kissing his cheek and walking to take a seat on the couch.

When he sits down next to her, he pulls her over and into his arms. She briefly catches the worry on his face before he speaks.

“Not to be puttin’ pressure on you darlin’ but,” he looks down. “Do you think you found who you were supposed to be with? There’s not some Awoken I’m gonna have to duel it out with, right?”

His honesty, wrapped tightly underneath a chivalrous act; a throwaway comment to soften the exposure of such a question, draws her closer.

She kisses him, and hopes that even though the motion is countless in the amount of times they’ve come together, that the answer is plain enough. _A claim_ , she hears her own words in her head, tasting the tobacco of his morning cigarette on her tongue, the warmth of the pull at his hands on her hips.

She pulls back, the grin on her lips vicious. “You wouldn’t be the one duelling them cowboy,” she runs a hand through his hair. “I would.”

Breathless, he laughs. “I’d like to see that, sweetheart.”

* * *

For Rook, his free time consists of watching Crucible matches, flicking idly through Vanguard reports, and listening to loud pre-golden age music.

Avia sleeps.

On and off, the Awoken lazes around their flat as though a feline, sleeping on the sofa, moving then to the bedroom, back into the living room to prop her legs up on Rooks lap or curl into his chest as she slumbers. She takes a shower and falls asleep on the bed still wrapped up in a towel, leaving a damp mark in the shape of her body.

Rook makes more food as the sun sets, setting them up on the balcony.

“Any new Guardians standing out in the Crucible lately?” Avia asks around a yawn, popping some food into her mouth. The breeze is gentle on her skin as the sun disappears behind the clouds, still warming in its descent.

“Not really, lotsa regulars lately,” Rook huffs, stabbing his food. “Feels like that’s all that’s left, nowadays.”

Avia hums. “I think Shaxx is starting to catch on.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean, Clancy isn’t exactly subtle, and some Guardians just don’t know how to keep their mouths shut.”

“It’s about damn time,” Rook mutters. “Aunor got in touch yet today?”

Avia makes a sound somewhere between a scoff and a sigh. “Light above, I should probably check, shouldn’t I?”

“Eat first, darlin’. I didn’t slave away just for you to let your food go cold cause you’re stompin’ around cursing the Praxic Order.”

“At least I’m not punching people in the face because of them.”

“Oh, tell me he didn’t deserve it.” Rook says, and she meets the gleam in his eyes with a smirk. “Thought so.”

There’s a restful silence as they eat some more. Eventually Rook makes a noise, puts his hand over his mouth and asks; “Say, what exactly _is_ stopping Aunor and the rest of her Warlock crew from kicking him out, anyway?”

“The Vanguard.” Avia answers plainly.

“Why?”

She pauses. “Honestly?”

“Yeah, sugar. You got a better insight on stuff like this than I do.”

She takes a breath, shuffles in her seat. “I don’t think they’re strong enough to.”

Rook tilts his head, a gentle inclination to continue.

“And I mean more that they’re not seeing things clearly. After… After Cayde,” – and she notes the wayward look in Rooks eyes, a wound pulled clean for the briefest of moments and reaches across to grab his hand in silent understanding – “even though she was angry at first Ikora calcified eventually. Zavala gets more and more reclusive by the day. They’re trying to be strong but the truth of it is they’re failing. And they won’t admit it to themselves, let alone us.”

“Which means that bastard swooped in at the right time.”

“He’s lucky, that’s for sure. A hard decision isn’t something that they can manage right now, especially not with two thirds of the Vanguard. At least, that’s how it feels.”

Rook hums. “What would you do, sugar?”

She blanches. “I mean – I don’t – what do you mean?”

“Drifter. Keep him, or kick him out?”

“I don’t know if it’s that simple.”

“How’d you figure?” Rook leans back, a genuine curiosity on his features that blooms comfort in Avia’s chest.

“Well. It’s like you said, he got lucky. So _stupidly_ lucky it’s infuriating, he came here when things were just starting to splinter apart and reaped the benefits of it. That being said, and maybe this is just me but, keeping your enemies close isn’t a bad idea. The only problem is what to do then, but at this point the window might have been and gone. He’s been here too long to just kick him out, there’s too many Dredgens running around now.”

“I hear ya.”

“I think getting rid of him would just make all of them go with him.”

“All of them?”

Avia huffs a laugh, small, bitter. “Not if I had anything to do with it.”

Rook gives her hand a squeeze. “Didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“No, it’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

“Also, darlin’? I love to hear you talk.”

Avia laughs, shaking her head at him. “He’s set up his newest scam, in the Annex.”

Rook grunts. “Good, he’s further away from everyone now. Grier jumped in yet?”

Avia finishes her food, answering with a hand in front of her mouth. “We tried Gambit Prime, but apparently he’s got something else. Asher managed to pull Grier into some research though, so next week we’re going to take a look.”

“‘Gambit Prime’?” Rook scoffs.

“Tell me about it,” Avia stands as Rook picks up his pack of cigarettes. “I’m going to go see if Aunor’s sent her message. Want your lighter?”

“I got my lighter,” Rook says, hands diving into his pockets and coming up empty. His face turns sheepish. “Uh, ah, actually darlin’, if you could?”

She rolls her eyes and kisses him on the forehead as she passes, walking inside and picking up the lighter from the coffee table. “Think fast,” is all the warning she gives as she chucks it to him through the balcony door. He spots it out of the corner of his eye at the last second, just catching and then juggling the small metal between his hands whilst the unlit cigarette dangles from his mouth. 

When he has it in his hands solidly, he glares at her, and she only smirks in response. Then she turns on her heel and makes for the bedroom.

Rook mutters around the cigarette as he lights it. He takes his time, shrinks lower in his chair and lays his head against the top of it, watching smoke curl out of his mouth and towards the pink clouds above. His eyes close, enjoying the last of the suns warmth on his skin, the small buzz of city citizens making their ways home for the evening. After the last drag, he flicks the cigarette away and gathers up the plates, shoving the chair back under the table with his foot as he makes for the kitchen.

After a few seconds of running water, clinking glasses and Saffron telling Rook that no, she won’t ‘magic’ the plates clean for him, Avia walks into the room. She grips her holopad in her hands as Levi scans over it, muttering something about a dark age code.

“Sugar?” Rook asks, noticing the furrow of her brows, her squinted eyes boring holes into the screen.

She doesn’t answer him immediately, waiting for Levi to finish their decryption. When the Ghost is done, Avia descends on the message with furious intent, flicking through the words that appear on screen with a turn to her mouth.

Then she laughs, hollow. “Well. Speak of the devil, I suppose,” she looks up from the screen. “Drifter wants a favour.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's also worth mentioning that in the ~canon~ for mine and pins's kids, rook and avia are the ones aunor was looking into in the narrative previews regarding caydes death as they were with him when he died. hence avias casual mention of rook decking drifter, [which you can read here. ](https://pinstripe-s.tumblr.com/post/183199895908/the-loud-thudding-of-heavy-boots-is-the-only)
> 
> also ALSO the lore bit at the beginning is in the style of the stolen intelligence lore book which is a good book and i would recommend reading it


	2. Habits, pt. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'A favour. All these months, of wrapping Grier around his finger, antagonizing Rook, shrugging at her continued distrust of him. And he wants, has the gall to ask for, a favour.'

_Here’s the thing, if you’ve gone through the trouble of decrypting this (a fortified certain-eyes-only encryption that took me a couple of hundred years to perfect, thank you very much), it at least means you’re interested, so hear me out._

_I need a favour. I need you, specifically, to help me out with something._

_Now I’m not shy of the fact that this will be the second time you’ve helped me out, but seeing as you got a gun out of our first soirée, let’s just say I’ll let you decide what you get out of this one._

_It involves the Shore, and you watching my back. That’s all you’ll get out of me over official channels, even encrypted._

_And if you’re worried about your morals getting in the way, just know the vanguard set me up nice and proper down here in the annex. They’re not making it widely known but, you ask anyone and they’ll tell you. They should tell you._

_Swing by if you want more details._

_Drifter._

“That rat bastard,” Rook seethes, pulling the screen up and down to read and re-read the message. “‘Worried about your morals getting in the way’, who in the _hell_ does he think he is –”

“Rook.” Avia despairs, a hand curled into a fist propping up her head from where she peers at him over the back of the sofa.

The call of his name gives him pause. “I – sorry, sugar. But,” he gestures with the holopad. “You’re not buyin’ this, right?”

She tries to hold it, but eventually breaks his gaze.  

“Sugar, don’t tell me –”

“I’m considering it, yes.” She cuts him off not unkindly.

“Why?” Rook starts. “Do you really think there’s a good chance you’ll come back from whatever hair brained scheme he’s got in mind?”

“Well, I don’t know what he’s planning on dragging me into yet,” is her answer, curt in its lack of confidence. “It’s just… Do you remember what I said? About keeping enemies close?”

“But you don’t do them _favours_ darlin’.”

“He’ll owe me one. And trust me, if it involves something on the Shore? He’ll owe me big time.”

Rook looks down at Drifters message again, a sour turn to his mouth.

At the wayward gaze on his features, worried eyes reading over and over, she calls out to him. “Come here,” she says, reaching out a hand.

He crumbles under her gaze, placing the holopad down and crossing the room to her. She moves up onto her knees and takes his face into her hands, placing a kiss on his forehead.

“You’re worried, and you’re stubborn,” she breathes against his lips, glad that he laughs at the comment. “And I understand. But, I at least want to hear him out.”

He places his hands on her waist, bumps their foreheads together. “I trust you, you know that. It’s him I’m worried about. He won’t tell you everything.”

“Yeah.”

“And there’s a good chance he’ll push you into the line of fire to save his own hide.”

“I imagine so.”

“And – why ask you? What is it about the Shore?”

Avia stills slightly. She pulls back, crossing her arms over her waist.

“When – well – I mean,” she takes a breath, notices Rooks thumb moving in small circles on her hip. “The Shore’s always been a lawless place, long before the Guardians got there. Mara had several deals with the Spider, including if any of her corsairs or the crows needed a place to take care of a certain kind of business, they could do it on the Shore unnoticed. I… Spent a lot of time there. By her request and through my own means.”

Rook tightens his grip on her, just so. “You think he knows?”

“I know he knows,” she answers. “I’m… Light above, Rook, I’m –”

“No, hey, it’s alright,” Rook soothes, placing a kiss on her temple. “You don’t gotta get into that if you don’t want to.”

She smiles sadly, _thunks_ her head on his chest and he places a hand on the back of it, still moving his thumb.

“You heard from Malphur lately?” Rook asks quietly.

She looks up and shakes her head. “You?”

“Nah. Sugar? It’d make me feel a slight better if you did, before seeing whatever the sewer rat wants.”

“As much as I _wish_ I did, I don’t exactly have ‘Hunter Legend Shin Malphur’ on a direct line.”

“You can track him down, right? Like you did before?”

“That was different, he knew I was looking and wanted to be found. Who knows what he’s off doing right now?”

Rook hums. His face contorts, different sentences on his lips as he tries to speak. “Look, it’s not that I don’t – it aint you, I trust you, and – hell darlin’ I know I couldn’t stop you if I tried –”

“Hey,” she takes his hands in hers. The look on Rooks face, his stuttered words and tight grip were once upon a time blind to her, a need to keep her safe, something Avia use to believe she didn’t deserve from anyone. Her chest wells as she speaks. “I get it. I will _try_ to talk to Shin first. I can’t promise anything, though.”

He kisses her knuckles. “Thank you.”

Rook moves around the sofa and sits down next to her. He pulls Avia into his lap and helps that coil of tension in her chest dissipate before it can latch on, kissing over hickeys that litter her neck from the morning.

The rest of the night passes in a comfortable blur, the sky growing darker and darker as the moon rises to meet them. They talk, softer music playing in the background, and when Avia’s eyes close and her chest rises and falls is when Rook picks her up and carries her to bed, not bothering to translate her mumbles of defiance that she isn’t tired yet.

He crawls in next to her, and they settle, an awkward tangle of limbs, tan skin against lilac but to them it’s the most natural thing in the world.

* * *

Guardian duties resume the next day, as easy and simple as her eyes opening in the morning.

She wastes no time upon rising, Rook having got a head start on her, leaving a message in his scrawled handwriting that curses Clancy for getting the start time of a Crucible match wrong.

She smiles at the note, throws her legs over the bed and stretches around a yawn. Five minutes later, Levi puts her in her armour.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stick around?” The Ghost asks. “We don’t have anything urgent to do. There’s breakfast here.”

Avia hums, considering. She moves into the kitchen, glances over the fridge, the cupboards. She looks then onto the sofa, the sprawled pillows, untidy blankets. Suddenly the armour on her body feels heavy, out of place, like the metal has no right being somewhere like this.

“No. I’m not hungry, let’s go.”

“Okay,” Levi says in that tone of voice that lets her know they aren’t buying it. “Should we walk, or transmat?”

Avia notices the balcony door is still open. She walks over and closes it, the streets barely alive as one or two civilians walk to and fro, glancing idly at each other as they pass. “Transmat.”

The sky hangs a light blue over her, not a cloud in sight as she appears in the courtyard. The Tower is abuzz with activities, impossible to say which Guardian is coming off of a two week mission, long patrol duty or starting the day as she is. Tess is just opening Eververse for the morning. Rahool wipes sleep from his eyes. Shaxx is booming at Crucible, Zavala a quiet watcher in the distance.

For the first time in months, she has the choice of what to do.

Her fingers twitch as she considers. Undecided (and eager to get moving) she takes a confident stride towards the vaults, not getting far before a body careens into hers, large Titan arms around her shoulders.

“Avia!” Eden yells, bringing a smile to her face. She turns in Eden’s grip, and the Humans own smile is spread wide across the olive skin, deep brown eyes glistening. She puts her hands on either sides of Avia’s face, the gauntlets dwarfing her and Avia stifles a true laugh.

“You look radiant,” Eden says. “Positively beautiful.”

“Eden,” Avia whines. “I’ve had enough of that for the past two days.”

“And two days still isn’t enough, if you ask me.” Eden declares as she releases her. “I’m glad that boy looks after you, Traveler knows someone has to.”

“Eden,” Avia repeats. “Aren’t we past the ‘I’m not a kinderguardian anymore’ thing?”

“I can’t help it, you know you’ll always be a kinderguardian to me.”

“Light above, stop it.” Avia laughs. She spots an Exo in deep blue armour over Edens shoulder, walking surely towards them from the Bazaar. If the rigid walk didn’t solidify it, the orange stripe across her face, a diagonal from lip to forehead, would tell Avia from a mile away that Scarlet-2 has come to join them.

“Avia looks uncomfortable.” Scarlet settles between the two of them, putting her hands behind her back. “Are you complimenting her?”

Avia rolls her eyes. “Morning, Scarlet.”

“Good morning, Avia. How was your weekend? Restful?”

Avia smirks. “In a sense.”

Eden shoves Avia’s shoulder slightly. “Oh, spare us.”

“How’s Ada?” Avia asks Scarlet.

The Exo blanches, optical lights behind dark grey plates blinking and whirring, coming up with a response. Avia shares a look with Eden, raised eyebrows and quirked lips, a shared sentiment; _she’s got it bad, hasn’t she?_

“Ada-1, I believe, has fully settled into the Tower. She becomes more and more tolerable of the Guardians by the day. And with the discovery of Niobe labs, her mood has been favourable.”

“Yeah, I bet it has.” Avia mumbles, suggestive. She gets an elbow in the ribs from Eden.

“Ow!”

“That’s wonderful, Scarlet.” Eden praises the Warlock as Avia rubs her side dramatically. “Zavala was so glad to hear you assisted in taking back the Black Armourys vault.”

Avia’s brows furrow.

“It was at Ada’s request. I had more knowledge of the area in its current state, and felt more comfortable talking to Ikora and her Hidden agents than Ada did. In the end, the raid team did all the work. I merely made them aware of the obstacles.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that Scarlet, well done.”

Avia’s fireteam looks at her then, small worry crossing their features.

“What?” She bristles, crossing her arms over her chest.

Eden’s eyes crease at the corners as she takes in all three of them. “Goodness. It’s been some time, hasn’t it?”

“Since we were last together? Some months now. Our last excursion would have been assisting Failsafe on Nessus.”

“The Exodus Black,” Eden nods. “That _was_ months ago, wasn’t it?”

“Closer to a year.” Scarlet defines.

 _And it’s your fault,_ Avia’s mind chimes. It reels through the past year in staccato bursts, Ikoras request and Osiris making himself known, Ana Bray and the Warmind and another Hive God, holding Grier as close to her as she could throughout it all, the sting of the Red War still fresh. Caydes death shaking the foundation of everything, the Shore and the Dreaming City, Petra and Uldren and Rook. In the interim of all this, she offered nothing more than glancing conversations with her fireteam, with the two women in front of her who helped her through her first trembling months as a Guardian.

It feels like years, never mind just one.

“I don’t have anything pressing to do,” Avia adds, small.

“Oh?” The hope in Edens eyes is a blaze.

“I mean – yeah. Grier’s assisting Asher right now, Rook’s in Crucible with Clancy all day. Carver’s with his family.”

“Ada has requested that I sweep Niobe labs for more of the Black Armourys papers.” Scarlet says. “She’s not satisfied with current attempts. I offered. I would love to have you both assist me.”

Eden lets out what can only be described as a squeal. “Like old times!”

Scarlet looks at Avia, with the same piercing glare she remembers from a long time ago. She chuckles, the noise a hum through her Exo body. “I wonder, where is the young Hunter who would put up such a fight to be left alone?”

Avia shrugs. “I’m not sure yet, I’ll let you know when I find her.”

Scarlet rolls her eyes.

Avia clasps her on the shoulder. “Well, in that case, let me grab some of your girlfriend’s bounties whilst we’re here.”

“My what?”

“Avia,” Eden tuts. The Hunter smirks as she goes on. “I also need to talk to Zavala, but still, don’t be too long!”

“I won’t!” Avia calls, walking towards the Annex, leaving Scarlet in a blinking stupor.

* * *

“Inconsiderate, loud, abrasive –”

As she walks towards the curator of the Black Armoury, Avia only catches the end of Ada-1’s lonely tirade. The absence of Guardians in the Armoury is something she’s noticed more after the last known forge was discovered, not that she imagines that to be a problem for Ada.   

Although there lies another reason, Avia supposes. That same one no doubt is on Ada’s mind as she vents to no one, evidence by the calibre of her mutterings.

“Having trouble with the neighbours?”

Ada flicks her head up from her screen, optical eyes wide and accusing. Avia bristles, laughing. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Your vernacular isn’t usually so… Jovial.” Ada responds, looking Avia up and down. “You also look happier than I’m used to seeing.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Ada squints at her. Then she turns her body fully, arms crossed on her front. “I suppose not. Can I help you?”

“I’m going to help Scarlet look for those papers, figured I’d get some bounties whilst I’m here.”

Ada hums. “Of course,” and as Avia looks over her options, Ada goes on. “I appreciate your assistance.”

“It’s okay, I’ve got nothing else on.” A second passes. Ada stills. “I mean,” Avia goes on tersely. “I mean, I haven’t – hadn’t decided what I was going to do today and Scarlet asked.”

If Ada finds any amusement in Avia correcting herself, she doesn’t show it. Avia sighs. “Sorry, Ada.”

“It’s… Quite alright.” Ada says. “Scarlet speaks in no small measure about you. I understand your habits.”

“‘Habits’?”

“Would you _like_ me to explain?”

“Nope,” Avia says, satisfied with her bounty choices. “That’s alright. Anything else I can help with before I go?”

Ada’s laugh is synthetic, the voice channels on the space where her mouth should be alighting with the motion. “Only if you could teach your friend the Drifter to have the same modicum of respect that you do.”

Avia scoffs. “‘My friend the Drifter’? You might have me confused with someone else.”

“That’s what he called you.”

Avia’s head tilts. “I – he what?”

“He mentioned ‘knowing lots of Guardians’. Yours was the only name he mentioned, I imagine on account of Scarlet’s presence.”

“Right.” She files that away for later. “Wait – so this was what, a few minutes ago?”

“Indeed.”

Avia can’t help but try and dig deeper. “And you’ve spoken to him before?”

“No. I haven’t left the Armoury since it was discovered. He entered, made an attempt at conversation, and then left.”

“Yeah. Sounds like him. Was he asking questions?”

“Yes. He received no answers.”

“Good.”

“Hmm,” Ada wears a concerned stare masked behind a formal rigidity that Avia knows her Warlock teammate best for. “The Drifter. You don’t get along with him, do you?”

“What gave it away?” Avia’s attempt at sarcasm is bitter.

“You did, just now. He did not speak of you in a similar manner.”

Avia takes a deep breath, exhales through her nose. “Anything else he might have mentioned?”

Ada regards Avia closely. There’s a second where Avia thinks Ada may send her away to ask herself, not deigning to involve herself in anything resembling gossip.

“He apologised – and I use the term loosely – for the noise. He spent the last few _weeks_ down here, moving his equipment at the behest of the Vanguard.”

“The Vanguard?” Avia asks.

“They gave him the space.” Ada confirms.

“He told you that?”

“You believe he’s lying.”

“No,” Avia stops, takes a breath. “Well. Not this time. He said the same to me, but. I don’t exactly trust him.”

“You might want to let him know that.”

Avia’s grin is sharp, a look of outrageous disbelief in her eyes as she puts her hands on her hips.

“He _should_ already know.” A pause, Avia softens as she racks over the information, thinks of Scarlet and adds: “Hey. Be careful around him, alright? He’s got a habit of taking things that don’t belong to him, I’d be surprised if he doesn’t have his eye on the gear in this place.”

“I have access to Vanguard reports. Ikora and Zavala separately have spoken to me.” Somehow, her eyes take on a darker tint, her head tilting forward just so. “I know all I need to about the Drifter. He doesn’t present a threat to me, currently.”

“Good. Thanks, Ada.”

“The thanks is mine. Tell Scarlet I said hi.”

Avia’s eyebrow lifts. “Well, that was _jovial_ of you.”

Ada stills again.

“Okay, okay, I’m going.”

Avia leaves the Black Armoury with a stone of worry in her gut. Normally it’d be the anger she’s known for, stoking the embers of whoever she’s ready to shout at. But there was something in the way Ada spoke of Drifter, the Exo’s assuredness that he and Avia were _friends_ , as if she hadn’t spent the past few months clipping sidelong comments and threatening him when his Gambit veered out of the realm of her control.

Selfishly, she wonders if he speaks of her that way often, and to who. She wonders if it’s for his own gain ( _some ‘hero of the Red War’ you are_ , her scathing mind supplies) or just to wind her up. She’s numb to the idea, she finds, her busy mind racing into nothingness, not supplying her a train of thought. She exits the Armoury, moves towards the stairs, and stops.

She looks past the Armoury, down to where the corridor leads to Drifter, the sky just beyond over the landing pad still clear. She places a hand on the railing, taps her nails against it, a foot on the first step as the rock in her stomach coils.

A favour. All these months, of wrapping Grier around his finger, antagonizing Rook, shrugging at her continued distrust of him. And he wants, has the gall to ask for, a favour.

She was too caught up in not seeing her fireteam that the thought didn’t cross her mind to try and track down Shin. Or at least make it known to him that she’s looking. She was incensed, maybe, at the way he spoke to Ada, needed to go and stomp the idea out of his head but he got her talking, like he does.

They’re weak excuses. She knows this.

But she’s here.

“Dammit,” she mutters under her breath. And walks towards the Drifter before she can make a better decision.


	3. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Come on, Avia. It’s just you and me. I can tell you’re interested.” Drifter leers slightly. It’s not unsettling, not his words or his proximity. Only the voice in her head that tells her he’s right gives her pause.

_ACCESS: RESTRICTED_

_DECRYTPTION KEY: 73XK5V2PG1$AUN-326_

_REP #: 050-VIP-0509_

_AGENT(S): AUN-326_

_SUBJ: Relationship with #1315_

_1\. THE FOLLOWING IS AN EXCERPT FROM REP #: 04-VIP-0509:_

_‘#0509 has adopted what most Guardians refer to as the ‘invader’ role in #1315’s Gambit. Ghosts undercover operating in Gambit confirm that the portals used to facilitate the role of invading an enemy team are similar in nature to portals found in the Dreaming City that open a gateway to the Ascendant Realm. However, it’s worth noting that in REP #: 040-VIP-1315 more thorough spectral analysis shows that the portals in Gambit harness the Darkness as more of a catalyst than a gateway. This not only allows transportation to another arena, but intensifies a Guardians power as they do.’_

_2\. As predicted, #0509 has taken part in #1315’s Gambit Prime. Once again she takes on the more solidified role of ‘invader’ as #1315 now offers armour and synths in order to enhance the role. I include the previous extract to show that #0509 has a history of utilising this role before all others, continuously and with devastating results as undercover operatives in Prime can confirm._

_3\. I wish to call into question #0509’s relationship with #1315, as it is my belief that it goes beyond the ‘protection’ of VIP #2805 as previous reports on #0509 would suggest. Though #2805 has been under close watch by the Praxic Order as one who took on the title Dredgen, #0509 still operates with #1315 of her own accord. She willingly entered Reckoning and now possesses a full set of ‘invader armour’, and has been seen conversing with #1315 on her own terms many times._

_4\. #0509 has a history of allying with those who have – admittedly loose – ties to the Darkness. #2805 has a long history of study and near-corruption at the hands of the Hive and the Taken, still being permitted to this day to study them. VIP #3105 was found guilty of killing another Guardian in the Crucible under the guidance of thanatanauts. VIP #0305 spent decades on the Moon post-resurrection before coming to the Tower._

_Even given our limited information on #1315, he is not out of place with this group of Guardians. It would not be unwise to consider them – all of them – a reflection of #0509’s character._

_5\. I have been denied access to highly restricted reports on #0509’s pre-resurrected life on the Reef. It is widely known amongst the Vanguard and closely aligned circles such as the Praxic Order that #0509 has a uniquely untarnished memory of her life before resurrection. Closer examination of this information is vital in order to examine who she is now and if she still holds loyalty to the Vanguard, the City and the Traveler._

_To further the point: #0509 has been confirmed to not hold any loyalty to the Reef. Yet, she regularly aids the Dreaming City and has close ties to the Queens Right Hand. She has not been questioned officially on this._

_6\. In conclusion, I believe the guise of protection for a clan member can no longer apply to #0509. If she wishes to align herself with a character such as #1315, she can only be held to her own actions and further investigation on the matter should be conducted._

* * *

Drifter is talking animatedly to two other Guardians – a Human Warlock, long blonde hair tied tight into a ponytail, and a Titan, a large Awoken with a shaved head – when Avia walks in.

She catches his eye between the shoulders of the Guardians, registers his face as one of pleasant (if not genuine) surprise. He changes fast, attention back to the Gambit-clad Guardians, glorifying their latest performances in Prime.

The Warlock chuckles at some suggestive comment. Avia rolls her eyes, hoping he catches it, and places her back against his table, facing away from him, waiting.

“Drifter,” the Warlock’s tone is dripping sweet, Avia can practically taste it on her tongue. “How did you get Ana to give you that map on Mars?”

“Well darlin’, I asked _very_ nicely,” Drifter replies, and Avia has half a mind to make a retching noise. She stays quiet as he goes on. “Me and Bray? We go way back, bumped into her stalking Mars a couple a’ times before she had to get you all involved.”

“You’ve been to Mars?” The Titan pipes up.

“I’ve been everywhere, kid! Ol’ Drifter don’t gotta worry about a quarantine or getting the say so from someone else.”

“And what about Ana?” The Warlock interjects.

“Hah, nice try, but I’m not flapping my gums and risking getting hit by a golden gun anytime soon. Let’s just say she… Owed me one.”

Avia looks over her shoulder then, her eyes piercing Drifter.

“Alright, alright, quit standing around and get back into Gambit, ya hear me?”

The Guardians acquiesce, and as they leave Avia catches the eye of the Titan, who takes a second pass at her. She’s used to this, especially stood next to Drifter. _I know you,_ his blue eyes say. _It’s no surprise that you’re here._

They round the corner, Avia waiting for them to be out of sight. When she turns, Drifter flicks a coin at her. She catches it ( _just,_ the tips of her fingers dig into the coin, flat against her palm) and looks up to see the sly smile on his face, disarming her.

“Well, sister. What can I do ya for?”

She readjusts her hand on the coin, gripping it. “You know why I’m here.”

He shrugs, his mouth frowning. “Hey, I’m a lot of things, but I’m no mind reader. I’m hopeful though, you and Grier still haven’t taken me up on that behind the scenes tour of the Derelict. Got some armour that’ll make you a _nasty_ invader, if you’re brave enough to get a look inside the Haul.”

Her tone is clipped as she speaks. “Your message. The one you sent me last night.”

His features warp into that of a man about to cut a bargain. She’s seen it before, maybe not on him, but Avia recognises her place in this scenario as he grins and shifts from foot to foot.

A Guardian walks in, hard boots and Warlock robes heavy against the floor. Drifter reaches over to his table, pulls out a bag of synths, and throws it at them.

“You’ll get double that if you make sure no one comes in here for the next ten minutes.”

The Guardian looks between Drifter and Avia. Then she looks back down to the bag, big brown human eyes looking up again.

“Yeah. Alright.”

Avia huffs as she scampers off. Drifter leans back on the railing, crossing his arms on his chest. “I knew you’d be curious,” he says around that sly smile.

“Shut it.” Avia snaps. “Don’t do that thing where you take forever to get to the point. What do you want on the Shore, and why do you need my help?”

He laughs. “Aint a girl for suspense, huh?”

“You know I’m not. Talk.”

He stands slowly, scratching his chin. “You know the Barrage?”

The familiarity of the name takes the shape of a knife in her gut. She nods. “The tradepost on the Shore. Well, that’s putting what goes on there lightly.”

“Too right. Nastiest sonsabitches coming through there nowadays. I heard, from a reliable source, that you know that place like the back of your hand. That right?”

The coin in her hand threatens to crack under the pressure of her fist. “Presuming nothing’s changed since I was there, yes.”

“Perfect,” his grin is all teeth. “I need an escort.”

“An escort?”

“Well, ‘escourt’” – he animates the uncertainty of the word – “might not be the correct term.”

“You need backup.”

“Yeah!” But his expression turns. “Eh, sorta. Think part bodyguard, part looking real intimidating whilst I cut a deal, and part knowing where to go if the worst happens.”

“A deal? What deal?”

“Sister, if it wasn’t for the Praxic Order, I’d be more than happy to tell you all of that. But uh, they got ears everywhere and I aint risking anything.”

She can’t fault him for that. To an extent. “Is that supposed to fill me with confidence?”

“You know as well as I do that any Guardian so much as breathes in my direction and the Order will pull out all sorts of accusations. Heh, Aunor got in touch today?”

She thins her lips, looks away. “Fine. You’ve got a point. But from the sounds of it, you’re expecting me to go in blind.”

“Now what I _was_ expecting was you wanting to know the ups, downs, in and outs of all of this, that’s for sure. I’ll explain everything, just not here.”

“Then where?”

He looks off as though considering her question, lost in thought. It makes Avia wonder just how much he’s thought this through, convincing her. “Hows about on our way there, away from the Tower, where neither of us have to worry about any snitches listening too closely. Huh?”

Her laugh is bitter. “Sure. More likely it’s going to be after you’ve gotten me caught in the crossfire of your stupid deal, right?”

“Nah, nah, that aint it,” He waves off her scathing worry. “I gotta be careful, the amount of people–”

“—‘Coming for your Ghost’ yeah, I’ve heard it all before.” She raises a hand to stop any retort, screws her eyes shut and thinks. “You need a second gun, is that it? That’s all this is?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Pretty much. It’s easy money, sister, I talk to a couple of shady characters, and you get to stand there and look tough so they don’t do somethin’ stupid.”

Avia fiddles with the coin, moves it from her palm to between her thumb and forefinger. “Aside from the Barrage, why me? There’s easily a handful of Guardians you could pick to help you out with this.”

His features soften at the question. The brevity of it, of her tone and the circumstance make it hard to find some sort of upper-hand in the way he breaks her gaze.

“You don’t trust me. I get it. But I’ve worked with plenty o’ folk and I can count on one hand the ones I – well. I depended on,” without letting the moment linger, he outstretches his arms. “And I’m still standin’. It doesn’t have to be about trust, sister, if that’s easier for ya. As long as we get it done, you get paid. That’s enough reason to watch each other’s backs, right?”

She doesn’t answer. It prompts him to go on. “Come on, on all your secret Reef missions or whatever, there had to be a couple of occasions someone stuck their nose in and offered a hand you didn’t want. This is just the same, ‘cept the payout is different.”  

He’s right. She remembers that part of it all. The trust and not-trust, reliability in all its little contradictions. Quickly, she asks, tone sharp; “And what the hell makes you think I’d say yes to going back to the Shore? The Barrage of all places? As a Guardian?” 

He purses his lips, mocking thoughtfulness on his face as he counts off on his fingers. “Because you’d get paid. Because I’d pay you real well. And, because you’d be the most feared and powerful thing on that rock if you came with me.”

Something stirs in her chest. She pushes it away. “And a huge target.”

“I’ve gotcha covered. Dress you up like an exile, real outsider type. They’ll know you’re a Guardian, but you’ll fit right in with the locals. Feared, but not exactly respected if ya get me.”

She looks down at the coin in her hands.

“Come on, Avia. It’s just you and me. I can tell you’re interested.” Drifter leers slightly. It’s not unsettling, not his words or his proximity. Only the voice in her head that tells her he’s right gives her pause.

The twin headed snakes look up at her, glinting in the dim light as she fiddles with the coin, all too aware of Drifter watching her closely.

She looks up, meets his eyes. “I wouldn’t want glimmer, or synths, or anything like that. You’d owe me.”

Satisfied, he leans back on the railing again. “Sure.”

“No,” and she tosses the coin back. He catches it without breaking her gaze. “You’d _owe_ me one. A favour. Understand?"

It annoys Avia, how he doesn’t seem taken aback by the comment. Instead, his tone is confident as he talks. “Heh. Not done dealing in secrets, are ya kid?”

“I never–” _dealt in secrets. I killed them. You know that._

The words catch in her throat. And it’s then that the stone of worry turns into anger, at Drifter trying to trip her up or at herself for nearly correcting such a small remark, revealing something bigger in the process. And, as she thinks with every comment about who she is and what she was, that’s presuming he didn’t already know.

She takes a measured breath. “You’d _owe_ me.” She repeats. “When?”

“Couple of days from now.”

She nods. “I’ll think about it.”

“Sure, sister. You, uh, do all the thinking you need.” He winks at her.

Her chest rages, screams, demands that she do or say anything to wipe that grin off his face.

Instead she turns on her heel, feeling the inquisitive gaze of the Warlock guarding the door on her back all the way to the courtyard.

* * *

The Sojourners camp tells a story, one Avia hasn’t had the time or mind to dissect. She imagines it’s the same as the tale of the EDZ in general, one of a beautiful home ravaged, leaving now only shrubbery and ruins.

Although the haphazardly put together tents and faulty equipment may say otherwise, she supposes. Still. It was someone’s home, at least for a time. The naivety of the thought catches her then, making her chest ache and her face twist under her helmet.

A Fallen Captain screams at them, breaking her stupor and Avia steadies her sniper rifle and aims for its head. Eden blocks her view, her shoulder charge and the arc energy within her breaking the Captains shield in an instant, the large alien body falling to the ground.

Avia lowers her gun, hears the steady shots of a scout rifle behind her, and between her teammates, the Fallen in the area are no more.

“Can I ask you guys something?” Avia says.

“Of course!” Eden replies. “Scarlet, could you lead the way?”

The Warlock hums, moving past Avia. The three of them walk together, Avia waiting for them to line up in step before delivering her question. “What’s your take on the Drifter?”

“Oh!” Eden laughs. “Well. He’s quite the character, isn’t he?”

“You could say that.” Scarlet adds.

“What do you mean?” Avia prods, and Eden turns to face her as they walk.

“You’ve spent enough time with him, Avia. Shouldn’t we be asking you?”

“I don’t _spend_ time with him,” Avia bristles. “I play his stupid game, that’s about it.”

“His ‘stupid game’ that I hear has other Guardians in a tizzy because you’re so good at it.” Eden teases, the smile on her face wide.

“I’m a good invader, and it annoys people who take it too seriously. That’s all. But that’s not what I’m asking – I want to know what you two think.”

Scarlet leads them further into a forest, and over the sounds of snapping twigs beneath their armoured feet, speaks up. “Eden has a point. He spoke… Amicably, of you to myself and Ada earlier today.”

“He what?” Eden flicks her head between the two of them, brow furrowed.

“Oh, Ada mentioned.” Avia tenses. “He’s got some nerve, I’ll tell you that.”

“It would seem so. We both refuted the notion, you’ll be glad to hear.”

“Thanks, Scarlet.”

“As for my ‘take on him’, I can only say that I’ve seen his kind far too many times. Guardians who reject the Traveler but keep its gift for themselves. His appearance in the Tower is no doubt some kind of bold move on his part, and I find no personal interest in discovering why.”

“Eden?” Avia prompts.

Eden squares her shoulders back. “Well,” she starts around a sigh. “He’s been around for a long time. I can’t say I’ve spoken to him too much, but, the way he talks of the dark ages, of the city before _The City_. He seems quite melancholy about it really.”

“The things he says about the dark ages, are they true?”

“I’m not _that_ old,” Eden admonishes around a smile. “But, for the most part, I believe so. That being said…”

“Go on?”

“Well, I guess I agree with Scarlet, to some extent,” Eden’s tone is soft, as bittersweet as Avia has ever heard her normally joyous voice. “It’s just that… Gosh. I’ve met so many Guardians like him, civilians even, who were here even before the walls were built. Their hope is all but gone.

“Hope?” Avia asks. The word doesn’t sound right next to Drifter, in any context.

As Eden talks, they move towards a cliff face, following the valley until rock meets smooth metal.

“Hope for a better future, hope for a second Golden Age. Hope for anything, really. Some Guardians, they either lose that hope or they never had it in the first place, and as Scarlet says, they decide to take their Light into their own hands to protect themselves. He’s no different.” Eden laughs, a short sound, and adds; “Well. He’s _very_ different. What’s possessed him to come to the Tower after all this time, however, is beyond me.”

“There are several theories,” Scarlet interjects, her voice echoing around the metal of the entrance into the labs. “The most prevalent ones are connected to his use of the title Dredgen. There’s been reports of Shadows in the city.”

“As in, ‘Of Yor’?” Eden asks. Avia, though she wants to shut down the idea that Drifters casual use of the title ‘Dredgen’ means anything worthwhile, listens intently instead as the older Guardians talk. “It’s been centuries, Scarlet.”

“Yes. They’ve kept to themselves for years. The Drifters arrival has some connection to their recent sightings.”

“That man isn’t a Shadow,” Eden adds, soft. “Do you remember?”

“It’s hard to forget, even more so the man who was their inspiration.” Scarlets voice is hollow, heavy. The Warlock tenses her grip on her rifle. “I agree with the notion that the Drifter isn’t a Shadow. Even so, there’s no doubt that he is connected.”

“Is that Aunor talking?”

“And myself,” if Scarlet found Eden’s comment unfavourable, she doesn’t let it show. “Whilst I find Aunor and the Praxic Order too self-righteous for their own good, when their evidence and bias are pulled away there _is_ unarguable evidence to be found.”

“Is that your really polite way of saying that when they don’t act like Praxic justice is the only justice, they make sense?” Avia asks, sarcasm dripping from her tongue.

Scarlet stops. Eden stumbles over her own feet, head catching up to her body as she stops and turns around. Avia halts as Scarlets helmet disappears.

“Aunor finds you suspect.” The Warlock says as though commenting on the weather. Avia unlatches her own helmet, pulling it away and holding onto it with one hand as she fixes Scarlet with a withering stare.

“Yeah. And?”

“ _Suspect?_ ” Eden cuts in, hastily removing her own helmet. “Suspect how? For what reasons?”

“She–”

“Aunor and the Order briefly looked into Avia and Rooks involvement in Caydes death,” Scarlet summarises, missing the wince and turn away of Avia’s gaze. “They were found innocent, Eden. It was a cautionary investigation, a report was published. There’s no need to worry.”

“‘No need to worry’? This is the Praxic Order we’re talking about, and Aunor in particular is a devil when it comes to hunting for the truth.”

“Eden, it’s fine,” Avia adds. “Her messages are just talk, she wouldn’t actually do anything.”

“Wait,” Edens tone rises. “Messages? She reached out to you?”

“She threatened me,” Avia scoffs half-heartedly. Edens face changes then, one of extreme worry and Avia lifts her hands to placate her. “No – no, nothing like that. I’m – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound so dramatic.”

“What did she say to make you feel threatened?” Scarlet asks, her voice a quiet storm.

“It’s – hey.” Avia looks tersely between the two of them, her hands still up in some attempt to disarm their mounting worry. “It’s _fine_.”

Scarlet responds in a fierce tone. “Answer the question.”

Avias helmet transmats away as her hands find their place of comfort on her hips. “She – well. One of them was a transcript she said she’s stolen herself because she wanted me to see it. It had a Ghost attached, a dead one, belonging to a Dredgen she’d killed.”

“Travelers Light, Avia.” Eden sighs.

“And the transcript?” Scarlet prompts.

“I – I can’t remember. No, wait,” Avia feels her chest coil, her breath coming quick and shallow. “The transcript was another message, after she sent me the Ghost. I think – I think it was Ikora and Shaxx talking about Guardians dying in Gambit.”

Scarlet breaks her gaze, looking away with something resembling fury etched along her metal features.

“Why would she tell you that?” Eden looks mostly to Scarlet, tone despairing.

“To make her feel guilty.” Scarlet answers.

Avia stumbles over the words, coming out fast and quick. “But I didn’t know. All her messages are about the Drifter playing me, playing us, but I couldn’t have known – about the Guardians, I mean, if I had – if I had I might have done _something_ , she said it was on my watch, but I had no idea I never have any idea what going on until it’s being thrown in my face –”

“Avia,” Eden steps forward, places her hands on the Hunters shoulders. “Avia, shh.”

Avia looks down at her shaking hands and realises she can’t feel them. She curls them into a fist, closes her eyes.

Scarlet is at her side then, placing a hand gently on Avia’s shoulder over Edens hand. “I apologise, Avia. I let my temper get the better of me.”

“Don’t apologise,” Avia grits out, wrapping her hand around Scarlets wrist. “I’m glad you’re as angry as I am.”

“More so. I’ll be having my own words with Aunor.”

“Me too,” Eden adds, gripping Avia’s hands in her own. The feeling comes back the tighter the Titan squeezes. “How dare she, to threaten you like that.”

“It’s fine,” Avia takes a deep breath. “If she can’t touch the Drifter, she sure as hell can’t touch me. It’s – it’ll be fine. It’s an empty threat.”

“Thinly veiled though it may be, Avia, look at you.” Scarlet’s voice is strong, her hand squeezing Avia’s shoulder and cutting through the numb fog in her head. “She has no right to place this amount of responsibility on you.”

Avia huffs in contradiction. “Not to give her the benefit of the doubt or anything, but she has a point when it comes to the whole Guardian thing. It’s like you said, Scarlet. Underneath the Praxic Order bullshit, they have a point. She has a point.”

“Regardless, she must know where your connection to the Drifter and his game lies. It is bold of her to assume you stand with that man when it’s not you who wears his title.”

“Scarlet–” Eden tries to stop the conversations obvious turn, to no avail.

“You mean Grier,” Avia says. “I really don’t want to get into that.”

“I respect that.” Scarlet starts. “However, it is as you’ve said before. You’re no friend of the Drifter.”

* * *

This is how the conversation could have ended.

Avia, though shaken and unsure, admits to Eden and Scarlet that she wants to be a friend of the Drifter.

Their expressions change immeasurably. They cast meek glances at each other and Avia explains – though hurriedly and with no coherent nature to the words – what she means when she says this.

In no short measure, she confesses. To enjoying Gambit, to finding the man with no name interesting, to respecting his rebellious nature, a middle finger to those who would see him six feet under. She sees herself in it, the idea reinforced the more Grier goes on about the things he says and the stories he tells.

Her own conversations with him, few though they may be, reveal even more. She wishes she could find it in her to ask if he knows, if he can see it too. His footprints on this world, this second life match hers not exactly but closely enough to give her pause, to wonder why, to foolishly hope that avoiding his missteps could make her feel some semblance of control.

Her fireteam don’t understand. Why would they? This man who she speaks of in sarcastic tones, angry comments and jokes.

They don’t speak their confusion, but she can tell, so she goes on. She tells them that her walls to keep him out were born once of Grier’s interest in the Primevals, then the motes, then the title. That wretched title. Second nature, she supposes, to put up a front where her bond-brothers inclination towards friendship might get him hurt.

The only problem with that was the proximity. Because over time, she started to see in the Drifter, maybe, the only person who could understand. And maybe, maybe it terrifies her. Maybe she’d drop dead before she ever admitted it. Maybe they’re both far too stubborn to get along because the sting that comes with the loss of trust will never go away and they both know that wound well.

So, she holds him at an arm’s length. Though she _wishes_ to scratch and claw beneath his own walls, to find the part that tells her that the ache goes away, that the ones she loves and cares about won’t leave, turn, or go somewhere she can’t follow.

Even if she knows he can’t. She just wants to know why.

Or at least, how to make it hurt less.

* * *

Instead, Avia blinks. She lets out a breath, uncoils her shoulders, and laughs.

“You’re damn right I’m not.”

* * *

Settled against the atmosphere of Earth, the Derelict shifts into low-power mode.

Drifter watches the final Gambit match of the day from his cockpit, feet crossed over each other on the console. He bounces a coin off the monitor, catches it in the other hand, and hungrily watches a collector send a giant blocker to the enemy side.

He praises the Guardian over the comm, missing the beep of his kit-bashed, jailbroken holopad on the other side of him.

When he settles back, he hears a noise, a buzzing in the back of his head. Not uncommon, his Ghost wants to make an appearance.

He permits it. The Ghost materialises shakily, protruding parts of its shell twitching along with the stark red of its eye.

“What?” Drifter bites, still staring at the monitor.

The Ghost sways into his vision, blocking the screen. Drifter huffs, settling his feet to tell it to get lost if it has nothing useful for him, and then watches its slow descent towards the holopad.

He reaches over, pushing the Ghost away with a bump of his knuckles, who twitters nervously at his shoulder as he opens a new message.

_The second this goes wrong, I’m out. I will leave you on that Shore if for a second I think you’ve pulled me into the deep end. That’s a promise._

_Give me a date and a time._

_Avia._

“Huh,” Drifter scratches his chin, brows furrowed. Then he chuckles to himself. “Knew it.”


End file.
